


Simply Irresistible

by Rearviewdreamer



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Baker Harry, Harry being the best at all the pastries, Louis coincidentally eating all the pastries, M/M, Movie AU, Simply Irresistible AU, boys flirting and falling in love, business man louis, life-chaging desserts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 12:57:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14136516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rearviewdreamer/pseuds/Rearviewdreamer
Summary: Louis only comes to town to start up a successful restaurant, but finds he can't quite leave once the job is done. Though, that might have more to do with him falling for his quirky neighbor than anything else.orA fic loosely based on the movie Simply Irresistible. A silly and funny movie with Sarah Michelle Gellar about witchcraft, cooking, and sex that everybody needs to watch at some point in their lives.





	Simply Irresistible

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FallingLikeThis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallingLikeThis/gifts).



> For my beautiful friend, Tabby, who loves this movie so much! <3
> 
> Let's pretend like it didn't take me a year to finish this lol

“So, _this_ is the most vibrant street in downtown? And you’d swear by that?” Louis peeks out the window to take in his third-story view of the giant brick building directly across from him, a boy being dragged down the pavement by a large bulldog who _clearly_ wears the pants in the relationship, and a group of elderly women in tracksuits who seem to be on their leisurely mid-day stroll around the block.

“Er- Mhmm,” his assistant nods enthusiastically after a pause. “Everyone I’ve talked to says it’s a _great_ area. Much better than all the craziness of the ugly old business district with the city bustle and not to mention all of those bloody people.”

“Yeah, because who wants to see one of _those_ under the age of eighty?” Louis mutters, but didn’t actually mean to say out loud.

He pulls his gaze away from the old lady cardio group and offers his assistant the most convincing grin he can muster while stuck facing a whole two weeks in a place that doesn’t even have a Starbucks nearby. How’s he supposed to function?

“Oh, Lou. It’s not forever,” Erin sighs as she drops the keys into his open hand. “Your real flat will be ready before you know it and it’ll be lovely. I’m making sure of it.” His real flat that should’ve been ready to receive him this morning but that was before the owner realized the current tenant hadn’t vacated it yet. “You’ll be working on launching the new restaurant anyway. You’ll be so busy with that you won’t even notice the, um, _quaint_ charm this place has to offer,” she assures him. “And you never know. You might actually like it here, Louis. It’s not _so_ bad,” she tries.

“Oh, I’m sure,” Louis nods, bravely taking another peek out the window. “Lenny’s Coffee Shack on the corner over there looks positively sublime. A hidden gem. God, and this furniture?” he gushes. “Some may call it dated, but I say age is just a number.”

All he gets is a flat face in response to his sarcasm and a copy of the two-week lease Erin managed to score for him on such short notice. For which he _is_ grateful, but letting her know that takes away all the fun.

“I’m requesting another raise after this restaurant launch,” she informs him with a smirk. “A _big_ one.”

“Wait. I’m _paying_ you? Well no wonder I’m stuck here in this hellhole. I can’t afford anywhere else,” he teases. She leaves Louis alone in his temporary flat with his sarcasm and the request for him to try and not need her.

“But, I don’t know anyone here,” he complains. “Stay a while. We’ll make it a sleepover.”

“You just moved into a building full of people. Go pester _them_.”

“Ugh. Socializing?” Louis balks. Honestly, what’s next? Using the oven for more than extra storage space?

*

Contrary to what Louis says whenever Erin calls to check in on him over the course of that day, his new place and the people in it really aren’t all that bad. Actually, as a whole, they’re really quite nice.

It seems he’s the hot new topic for gossip. The mysterious newcomer to the building whose reputation for turning run-down shops and useless warehouse spaces into lavish five-star eateries in eight weeks flat precedes him. He’s never really had a reputation before so he guesses it’s kind of flattering.

There’s a sweet young couple who just got married in the flat to the left of him and a family of four who live on his right. There are others on his floor too, most of which have stopped by to introduce themselves and joke about the thin walls in the building forcing everybody to get to know everybody regardless of a desire to. Fun.

By the end of the day, he has met pretty much everyone. Everyone that is except the person who lives directly across from him. Whether it be from a conflict in schedules or the fact that Louis and his neighbor both prefer to let others come to them, their paths have yet to cross today. Everyone he’s met has said nothing but great things about him though. Apparently, he loves to help people and bake so he guesses his absent neighbor is nice enough. And at least for now, he’s quiet.

It’s been a long day of people knocking on his door and of him trying to initiate his plan for his new business venture a whole twenty-seven blocks away from it. Every meal he has eaten today has been delivered to him and dinner is no exception around seven o’clock. He orders Chinese from some place down the street and then calls Erin to complain about how hungry he is until it arrives. He hops off his old green couch the moment he hears someone shuffling around outside his flat only to groan in Erin’s ear once he realizes it was a false alarm.

“Damn it, it’s not the food,” he mutters, peering through his peephole at the door across from his that just closed without Louis getting a peek inside. How rude. “It’s just the guy that lives across from me finally home.” All he caught was the heel of a dark boot and the bottom of a white t-shirt, but it couldn’t have been anyone else since burglars don’t usually have keys.

Over the next ten minutes Louis’ ears perk up each time he thinks he hears so much as a paper bag crinkle. He finally hears footsteps but he’s let down once again when he glances out his peephole and catches sight of a girl with brilliant red hair down to her waist rather than the sesame chicken he was hoping for. She stops right across from Louis’ flat, politely knocks on his neighbor’s door, and within seconds she’s being escorted inside by a man half-hidden in the shadows who must be his elusive neighbor. Louis can’t make out more than his tall frame and a tastefully tattooed forearm before the door closes behind them for the night.

She’s probably his girlfriend. Maybe even his sister or just a regular friend dropping by to say hello. Either way, they’re probably having a much better night than Louis is because _they_ aren’t starving to death.

Louis ends up staking out his front door for the better part of an hour, but the lack of food arriving at his door isn’t what holds his interest. It’s his neighbor and the fact that he must have a cock made of steel from all the company he’s acquired in such a short amount of time. The red-headed girl from earlier that he assumed was a friend didn’t stay long, however a middle-aged blonde woman in a tight dress quickly took her place followed by a brunette and then a man twice Louis’ age. He never hears noises, but every one of them came out wearing a big hopeful grin. All the while Louis wonders where the fuck his food is, but he also can’t stop obsessing over the massive rotating orgy his neighbor seems to be orchestrating. But, at least his neighbor doesn’t seem to discriminate. From the broad selection of people going in and out of his flat, he seems to be an equal opportunity lover.

When his food finally arrives it’s with an apology even though his food being so late is technically Louis’ fault. Apparently, the delivery man had such a hard time finding his new place because Louis gave him the address of the flat he was _supposed_ to be living in. The nice one with a fully-stocked minibar and ceiling to floor windows and without someone living next door to him who has the sex drive of a teenage rabbit, but at least he was entertained while he waited. Maybe this is the most vibrant street in downtown after all.

*

Louis wakes up a lot earlier than he ordinarily would have to in order to make it down to the restaurant. If he were staying in the flat that was intended for him he could literally just roll out of bed and walk across the street. But, sadly, that isn’t the case at the moment.

Yesterday, Lenny’s Coffee Shack had been the butt of a joke he made to Erin but today it’s every prayer he’s ever made answered. He doesn’t know Lenny personally, just that he turned out to be a really sweet old man with a talent for brewing the best damn coffee Louis has ever had the pleasure of drinking. He’d daresay it’s _better_ than Starbucks, but he won’t tell Erin that. After such a humbling caffeine experience with Lenny, Louis starts to notice all the other small, hole-in-the-wall shops along his new bustling street. There’s one place in particular that stands out to him and his growling stomach. A bakery called Spellbound that seems to live up to its name based on the satisfied-looking person walking out of it with a to-go bag clutched in their fist.

Louis glances down at his phone knowing that he should really get going if he’s going to make his meeting with the contractors to install the mosaic flooring Louis and his designers chose. It’s not like they can’t function without him though. He’s hungry, and his assistant, Erin, will be there too in case something goes wrong so he decides to live a little and try something that’s hopefully _spellbinding_ for breakfast.

The inside of the shop is just as small as the outside of it would suggest, but it’s nowhere near as boring. The walls are bathed in a deep crimson with cream-colored accents that remind Louis of red velvet cake. There are only a couple of places to sit down since most of the storefront is utilized by the long glass display that Louis kind of wants to crawl inside of and never leave. Every shelf within it is packed with sugary goodness. There’s a whole tray of freshly baked cinnamon rolls with icing practically calling Louis’ name when someone else’s grin appears on the other side of the glass. 

“I just took those out of the oven not even ten minutes ago,” it says.

The grin, which is centered between a delightful pair of dimples seems to be attached to a whole gorgeous face which is attached to an entire gorgeous man when he straightens up and offers Louis a warm smile. “I could wrap one up for you if you’d like,” he offers after a glance at his to-go coffee from Lenny’s clutched in his hand.

“Uh, yeah. That would be really great,” Louis smiles back innocently even though his mind is stuck on how the color of this man’s lips also reminds him of delicious red velvet. “I’m Louis by the way. Nice to meet you.”

The man reaches across the counter with an outstretched hand to meet him half-way. “I’m Harry,” he reveals and suddenly Louis has a name to go with his fantasy of this Adonis of a man baking all of these magnificent pastries in the kitchen. _Shirtless_. “Nice to meet you too. So, just the cinnamon roll then?” he asks as he bags one up.

It’s past nine. Louis should thank the gorgeous man for his time, take his cinnamon roll, and go, but… _But._

“Hmm…” he hums thoughtfully. “What do you suggest I try, Harry? I just moved into the area so my experience with things like this are limited to all those big chains I’m afraid,” he chuckles.

That was a complete line. That was just thirst and desperation at its finest, and to his delight, Harry seems to be flirting back.

“Well, _Louis_ , if I had to pick a favorite, it’d probably be the dark chocolate macarons. They’re to die for.” Just the way his lips and bubblegum tongue wrap around his name makes Louis want to buy every macaron in this fucking shop. The dark tattoos inked all over his skin that are visible just below the sleeve of his shirt makes Louis want to do way more than spend a fortune on sweets.

“Um, sure. I’ll take a few. I’ll let you know how they are later.”

“Oh, please do. I love feedback from customers. I like knowing how I can improve, you know?” Harry says with a genuine smile. Louis thinks he may be in love with him already.

Harry keeps stealing glances at him as he moves to fill Louis’ order, biting down on his grin each time he gets caught.

“So, you just moved to town?” he asks as he begins ringing up all the sugar and calories Louis doesn’t need, but also doesn’t care that he doesn’t need. “Which part?”

“Uh, _this_ part actually. I live just down this street,” he says nodding in the direction he just came from.

“Really? Wow, so do I. I live in the big grey building three blocks down.”

That sounds quite familiar. “You mean the one across from the big brick one and the lesser known yet life-changing Coffee Shack?”

“Yeah, Lenny’s,” Harry grins. “Wait a minute. You said you just moved here, but did you _just_ move here? Like, as in yesterday morning? Because someone new moved in across from me yesterday but I haven’t met him yet.”

Weirdly enough, that sounds even more familiar. When Louis looks at Harry he sees a hot man with whom he’s been mentally planning his whole life for the past ten minutes. Now, he tries to see Harry through new eyes; the same pair of eyes that caught a glimpse of this same tall frame just last night. It’s the same mess of dark hair and the same tattoos that Louis only caught a flash of but _totally_ should’ve recognized because how many people have bloody mermaids on their forearms? He was just so distracted by Harry’s dimples and his perfect red, velvety lips to notice he was standing in front of the sexual teenage rabbit in the flesh.

“I live in flat number 124,” Harry tells him. “So that means _you_ must live in-”

“125,” Louis finishes letting his dream of a big country house, his and Harry’s matching Labrador Retrievers, and their horde of green-eyed, velvety-lipped children crash and burn straight to the ground.

“Oh my god. You’re the restaurant guy everyone’s been talking about!” he smiles. “It’s nice to officially meet you. Er- Sorry I haven’t been by to say hello yet. I’ve been pretty busy,” he apologizes.

“Oh, I’m aware,” Louis mumbles instantly regretting it when Harry’s brow furrows in confusion. “Sorry. I meant- I just noticed you were very busy. I saw you had a few, uh, _guests_ last night. B-But, what you all do is completely fine with me,” he hurries to say when Harry’s expression grows more confused. “I swear I’m not like, a prude or anything. Honestly, it’s okay. And it’s really none of my business anyway, so.”

“Louis, what are you talking about? _What_ isn’t any of your b-?” Harry stops and his brow unfurrows as if something just clicked inside his brain. “Oh, God,” he snorts, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. “ _Oh my God!”_

Now Louis is the one looking confused.

“What? What’s so funny?” he frowns which only makes Harry laugh harder.

“Louis, what is it that you think I do exactly?”

Louis shrugs. He thinks it’s pretty fucking obvious what Harry does, but he doesn’t want to sound rude by blurting it out. “I don’t really know,” he admits. “Everyone in the building kept going on yesterday about how much you ‘ _help_ ’ people, so. I assume they all mean… _you know_.” Louis glances down at the inseam of Harry’s jeans and that’s it. Harry loses it, unable to even look at him anymore, leaned over his display case and cackling like an idiot.

“Stop laughing!” Louis whines, even though he’s now laughing himself.

Harry wipes at his eyes and finally rights himself after a couple of minutes, but still struggles to keep a straight face when he looks at him.

“Louis, I can see how you might assume that given the number of people who came to see me last night. And that’s hilarious, but it’s also not what you think,” he chuckles. “I'm not an escort.” Obviously not. Escorts go where they’re told with the people who pay for them. All the people from last night came to Harry so he doesn’t know what the hell that’s called. “I do help people though,” he continues. “People who feel lost or need guidance or comfort. It’s not my day job obviously, but I can sort of read people so I use it for good.”

“So, what? You’re like a psychic or something? A clairvoyant?” Louis raises a skeptical eyebrow.

“No,” Harry chuckles again. “I don’t have visions of the future.”

“So…you’re a witch then? You see ghosts?”

“Mmm, I can’t talk to the dead either, and I think technically I’d be called a wizard if I had magical powers. But, again, no,” he smiles. “Honestly, I’ve never really known what to call it. I just get these feelings. About people and the things happening around them.”

Louis keeps waiting for him to burst out laughing again and admit that he’s bullshitting him, but Harry looks disturbingly serious about this.

“You get ‘ _feelings_ ’,” Louis repeats. “And… that helps people how again?”

Harry doesn’t seem offended when a small grin stretches over his face. “It’s okay if you don’t believe me, Louis,” he says. “Many people don’t. It’s just something I’ve always been able to do so I embrace it. People like knowing if the path they’re on is a good one so I try to help them out if I can.” It sounds an awful lot like he tries to scam them if he can, but Louis doesn’t say that. “You should stop by one night if you’re ever curious. I work here pretty much all day, but you’re welcome to come over anytime once I’m home. Even if it’s just to say hi. No reading necessary.”

A few minutes ago, Louis would’ve broken into a dance at such an invitation but now he’s a bit suspicious of the dimpled smile being aimed at him. He does like Harry though. He can tell that he really is a kind-hearted person, so Louis doesn’t officially reject his offer.

“Uh, yeah, maybe,” he lies. “If I’m not too busy.”

Louis leaves after that with his bag of baked goods clutched in his hand.

“Nice to meet you. Remember to let me know about those macarons!” Harry calls once he’s nearly out of his shop.

“Sure thing!” Louis grins and waves back at him before walking back out onto the pavement.

That was a waste of time, he thinks to himself. He stopped off hoping for breakfast and to get the cute baker’s number only to end up finding the local delusional crazy instead. Louis walks a whole two blocks before remembering that local crazy lives right across from him. _Terrific._

He makes it to work later than anticipated and gets pulled into his contractor meeting the moment he enters what is soon to be the premier gourmet restaurant in the city.

Everybody needs him for something and he doesn’t get a moment’s rest until they have all asked their million questions and run through their various to-do lists twice.

Louis slumps into his office around noon, collapses into the chair behind his desk, and listens to his stomach demand the breakfast he should’ve eaten three hours ago. He reaches for the bag with the word Spellbound printed across it in swirly red letters. Between work and all the people driving him mad about the aesthetic pros and cons of real crystal chandeliers versus fake ones, he forgot all about his psychic baker neighbor and the cinnamon roll that had Louis salivating on the other side of the display.

He breaks off a corner of it as he opens his laptop to resume the great head chef hunt that always takes forever. The right space and atmosphere for a restaurant is important to the dining experience, however the right chef and his vision is what makes it come to life. It’s not something Louis jumps into lightly with his projects. Finding the perfect chef for a new restaurant is like finding the perfect marriage. Just like the light cinnamon flavor tied in with the hint of vanilla currently dancing across Louis’ tongue as he bites into pure heaven.

“ _Holy shit_ ,” Louis says as he takes another generous bite and lets every ingredient wrap around his taste buds and sink into them. “ _Fuck me_.”

The quick sound of heels begin approaching and his assistant, Erin, pops her head into his office at the sound of him whimpering. “Jesus, Lou, are you okay? You sound awful.” Louis moans again and Erin gives him and his laptop a look of firm disapproval. “ _Louis!_ _Are you watching porn right now?_ ” she hisses.

He isn’t, but this feels like ecstasy. It’s like he’s ingesting it in its purest form.

“No,” he mumbles through a mouthful of sugary goodness. “Come here. You have to try this.”

Her nose immediately turns up at his offer, eyeing the remainder of his cinnamon roll with disgust as Louis sinks his teeth into it yet again. “Yeah, no, thanks,” she rolls her eyes. “Call me when there’s something _important_ going on.” There is. There’s an entire revelation happening inside his mouth.

Louis doesn’t mind Erin thinking he’s crazy. That just means there’s more for him; more of this perfection that clearly only he appreciates. He doesn’t know what the hell Harry is or becomes once he leaves that bakery and goes home at night. Maybe he’s a psychic and maybe he’s not, but one thing’s for sure. He’s a fucking culinary genius.

*

By the time Louis gets home that night he’s been reduced to a weak semblance of his former self. He now mentally refers to that sad time in his life as _BHB_ ; _Before Harry’s Baking_.

That cinnamon roll from this morning was devoured almost as soon as he tasted it. Unfortunately, his bag of dark chocolate macarons suffered a similar fate once he remembered he had them, and now he’s staking out the living room of his flat, jumping at every sound he hears outside the front door that even slightly resembles a jangle of keys or the swift step of a dark Chelsea boot because he’s a fucking addict.

It’s not until seven that he hears signs of life from across the corridor. It’s the soft jangle of keys that catch his ear, but also the soft murmur of a conversation that Louis assumes his crazy culinary genius spirit whisperer neighbor isn’t having alone. He isn’t, Louis sees once he spies out of the peephole.

There’s an older woman who must have walked up with Harry from downstairs because Louis’ almost certain she doesn’t live here too. His suspicions are confirmed when Harry chuckles at something she says as he unlocks his front door and graciously invites the woman inside with him.

It’s difficult waiting for her to reemerge from their séance or whatever the hell Harry’s over there doing. It feels like a lifetime has passed each time Louis thinks about all the lonely homemade pastries and desserts inside his neighbor’s flat right this minute that he could be eating. The woman finally leaves about fifteen minutes after her arrival, thanking Harry with a big relieved smile like he didn’t just con her out of all her money, however Louis isn’t interested in the immorality of his neighbor’s dealings. He’s more interested in the perfect, gooey, decadence of his baking that’s just a few yards away from him. The opportunity for Louis to stare at Harry’s lips and those long, fit legs of his in those jeans again is just an added bonus.

There’s a dark-haired man about Louis’ age approaching once Louis steps out into the corridor to make his move. He starts to panic when he doesn’t immediately recognize him from their building either, which could only mean he’s here visiting someone. Louis realizes exactly who that someone probably is when the man starts silently cross checking door numbers with an address typed out on his phone, walking about with the air of someone seeking answers to much deeper wonderings than why the corridors of this building are so hard to navigate.

Louis rapidly knocks on Harry’s door to beat Mr. Dazed and Confused to the punch. He isn’t seeking any bloody answers to the unknown. He’s just starving.

“Oh. Hey, excuse me,” the dark-haired man smiles and calls out to him. “I’m looking for someone named Harry Styles. He does readings for my friend and she said-”

“Never heard of him. Sorry,” Louis says, knocking even faster this time so Harry will hurry the fuck up. “Er- Try the building across the street. Big brick one. Can’t miss it.”

Finally, the lock unlatches on the other side of the door so Louis pushes his way in, quickly shutting the door behind him before Harry’s guest figures out he has the right address after all.

“Um- Hello?” Harry laughs, raising an eyebrow at him barricading the door with his body. He chances a look out of the peephole, happy to see the confused-looking man walking back the way he came. “Louis, not that I mind, but what are you doing here?”

Flushing all his willpower and self-respect down the toilet.

“Nothing. You sound surprised though,” he smirks. “Didn’t you _see_ me coming?”

“Well, I’m not psychic, so no.” He flashes a bit more of that smile of his when Louis pushes away from the door, bringing him just short of eye level. “You kind of just broke in. I’ve never had that happen before.”

“I knocked first,” Louis tells him matter-of-factly.

“True. You did. Well, welcome, anyway. What can I do for you?”

Louis’ blinks away from him for the first time to examine the place Harry calls home. It’s shockingly normal aside from the obnoxious display of scented candles and the completely unsurprising presence of a black cat napping on the back of his sofa.

“Uh…nothing” he answers, bringing his focus back to Harry which is mostly counterproductive considering the rich color of his mouth. “I, uh, remembered I promised to let you know about the macarons from this morning. I tried them.”

“And? What’s your verdict?” Harry asks, leaning in with interest.

They were the sweetest morsels Louis has ever had the pleasure of putting in his mouth and he doesn’t regret a single second of the three minutes it took to shove them all down his throat. Kind of like he doesn’t regret the way his personal space is being infringed upon by how close they’ve gotten.

“They were exquisite. Compliments to the amazing baker.”

“Thank you,” Harry says while Louis’ eyes follow every contour of his lips as he speaks. “I’m glad to hear you enjoyed them.”

“Oh, I did,” Louis assures him. “I enjoyed them very, _very_ much.”

“Yeah?” Harry smirks, unconsciously inching towards him bit by bit as if their bodies are magnetized. The air feels thick with tension just like it did this morning when they were flirting except now there are no wide display cases or transparent shop windows forcing them to mind their manners. Louis doesn’t even stop his mind’s recurring fantasy of Harry baking all the sweets in his shop. Shirtless, and this time, _sweaty._

“Yeah,” Louis breathes with Harry so close now that their lips are almost touching. “They were _so_ good that I- _Hang on_.” He presses a hand against Harry’s chest when he realizes what he actually came here for. “Um, you wouldn’t happen to have more of those macarons just, oh, I don’t know…” he bats his eyelashes. “Lying around?”

Harry was just wetting his lips to close the distance between them when his face screws up at the question. A slight crinkle forms between his eyebrows once Louis’ words register in his brain along with the sound of his stomach now rumbling between them, and then he’s laughing. This loud, weirdly endearing cackle that makes Louis crack a smile as well despite being ravenous.

“Wait. Is _that_ what you broke in here for? _Food_?” he chuckles.

“First of all, _I knocked_ ,” Louis reiterates. “But, maybe. Why? Is that a problem?”

“Not at all,” Harry assures him, taking a small step back so they both can breathe again. “You’re a little out of luck though, because unfortunately, there aren’t any macarons here. I’m sorry.”

Louis’ heart practically shatters inside his chest. He’s sure a shard of it just broke off and pierced his spleen or something.

“Oh.”

“ _But,_ there’s no reason why we can’t bake some if you’re not too busy!” Harry chirps, restoring hope to his soul. “Come on,” he nods towards his kitchen. “They don’t take very long.”

Louis is so thrilled to know he’s going to get more of Harry’s baking after all, he almost doesn’t hear the ‘ _we_ ’ part of all that.

“Wait. _What_?”

*

For an alleged wizard, Harry seems pretty normal. So far, nothing about him is particularly surprising, and yet Louis is fascinated by everything he sees. His kitchen, for instance, is the exact same as Louis’; small with tiled countertops and a tiny island in the center, except Harry’s has been painted a bright robin egg blue and has one hundred times the amount of shit in it that Louis’ does. Most of which is actually edible and _didn’t_ come in a takeaway container so if that’s not witchcraft then Louis doesn’t know what is.

The little window over the sink is lined with a collection of small flower pots that contain herbs Louis could never identify, just like the jars of spices and thick cookbooks lining the walls on hanging shelves Harry must’ve installed himself. There’s a wooden lattice suspended above them that holds an array of wine glasses as well as four mosaic light fixtures that create a soft glow and make Louis’ fluorescent panels seem overly harsh. It’s beautiful and inviting and if Louis were to ever design a domestic kitchen, he’d want it to look and feel just like this. Granted, he’d have no clue what the hell to _do_ with his hypothetical kitchen. It definitely wouldn’t smell as mouthwatering as Harry’s currently does that’s for sure.  

“Could you please hand me a mixing bowl? There are a few in the cabinet behind me,” Harry says.

Louis hops down from the corner of the island he’s been perched on ever since Harry asked him to whisk the cookie batter and a good portion of it ended up on the floor. Needless to say, his job as sous-chef didn’t last very long but that’s okay because this is a much easier task. Bowls he can do.

“Mixing bowl. Got it,” he grins. The moment Louis’ feet touch the ground, his ankles get massaged by a purring ball of fur with big yellow eyes. “Oh. Hello there,” he greets her. Louis bends down to scratch through his new little friend’s midnight colored coat, grinning once again at her completely unsurprising name when the tag glints in the light. _Salem._

There are way more than just ‘a few’ mixing bowls in the cabinet Harry nodded towards. Louis doesn’t draw attention to the fact that Harry is in fact a bowl hoarder as he picks a bright yellow one with little daisies painted around the rim.  

“Will this one do?” Louis asks holding it up, his eyes falling to a small stack of papers and envelopes resting on the countertop below the cabinet, the majority of which seem to be an accumulation of late rent notices.

“Yeah, that’s perfect,” Harry answers, glancing up at him. “Oh, don’t mind the mess. It’s just a bunch of junk I haven’t had time to read through.” The things lying here don’t _look_ like junk. Louis can’t help but notice that the address listed on all the late notices is for the bakery just down the street from them.

Like Harry’s eclectic bowl obsession, this is something else he shouldn’t draw attention to, but it’s inconceivable to him for Harry to be struggling to make rent each month when his baking is nothing short of amazing. Louis knows first-hand that the restaurant business can be tough and highly competitive. The first few places he opened didn’t even survive past their first year. Keeping a bakery up and running must be just as difficult no matter how delicious its goods.

“So. Your bakery, Spellbound…” Louis begins. He hands Harry the bowl and hops up to reclaim his little corner of the island as he watches him work. “Tell me about it?”

Harry breathes a little laugh to himself as he mixes the sugary filling for the macaron halves cooling on the stove top.  “Well, it’s a bakery and it’s called Spellbound. I’m afraid there’s not much more to it,” he jokes like it’s nothing special, but Louis knows better. He could feel the passion and love that Harry has for it the moment he walked into that shop.

“And, I’m sure business is great,” he pushes. “It must be with how amazing you are.”

“Eh, well,” Harry shrugs. “It’s okay. Could definitely be a bit better. People in this area seem to enjoy my desserts, but my shop is a little out of the way from the busiest part of downtown so business can be slow sometimes.” A _little_ out of the way from the busiest part of downtown? Try twenty-seven blocks. Louis knows because his new project is there. Right in the heart of the business district where it can’t be missed. Louis made sure of it and paid more than any sane person would to have it that way and ensure its success.

Harry fills a piping bag with the icing he just made, squeezes some between two of the cooled cookies, and places the first of many macarons in Louis’ hand with pride. It looks perfect and Louis hasn’t tried it yet, but he knows it tastes that way too.

“So, did you always want to be a baker then?”

“Mmm. I guess so,” Harry hums as he gets to work on another. “I figured it was a step up from when I was thirteen and wanted to be a cage fighter or a world famous rockstar. And also that one time I wanted to be a t-rex,” he grins. “I was six.” The image of a young Harry wanting to be any of those things makes Louis smile. “But, I decided baking was my true calling.”

“That, and also reading people’s palms,” Louis smirks. “Or is it their feet? I always get that confused.”

Harry doesn’t seem to mind his teasing. If anything, he’s enjoying it based on the full-bodied laugh he stops working to let out.

“There are people who read palms, though I’m pretty sure _no one_ reads feet.” Louis is aware, but that doesn’t make it any less fun to pretend otherwise. “Sadly, I can’t do either. I just get feelings.”

So, he and everyone that comes here looking for Harry claims.

“Okay,” Louis says, playing along. “Well, what do you feel right now? About me for example.”

Harry’s gaze falls right to Louis’ lips and every inch of skin over Louis’ back knows it from the chills that rush down it.

“Are you asking for a reading or the truth?”

A little of both, honestly, but for now Louis’ mostly concerned about these so-called powers Harry thinks he has, and also the way his stomach is fluttering.

“Reading,” Louis decides once the fluttering sensation fades, offering his left palm by shoving it directly under Harry’s nose. “Go on then. Tell me about me.”

“And if I’m right?” Harry smirks.

“Then I won’t devour this entire tray of macarons by myself. You may have one.”

“How very generous of you,” Harry laughs as he takes Louis’ offered hand, though he doesn’t examine it. He seems content just to hold it in the warmth of both of his as he moves to stand between the triangle of Louis’ legs.

“What are you-?”

“Shh. Give me a minute _,_ ” Harry chuckles with closed eyes. Louis’ gives him several, and he’s pretty sure nothing is happening here except him being gullible and feeling like an idiot for expecting anything to happen at all.

“So… do we just sit here in silence all night or-?”

“God, you’re annoying,” Harry mutters with his dimples on full display.

“Oh. And did the spirit world just tell you that?” Louis teases.

“Nope. I got that one all on my own,” Harry quips back. “Just like you being an incredibly kind and giving person. You can be annoying as hell, sure,” he laughs. “But, you only do it to the people you care about the most. It’s like your version of a really big hug. Affection without all the vulnerability.” Louis would say that’s a pretty accurate description of him. Harry peeks his eyes open at him wearing a knowing grin. “Am I close?”

“You might be onto something, I guess,” Louis stubbornly admits. “Go on,” he urges. “Any generalized fortune cookie statements to recite? Should I face my fears and seize the day? Is my troubled past holding me back? Has my third eye been blinded by my inability to get over my tragic long-lost love?”

Harry barks out a laugh which is so nice to witness this close up Louis notices. “I have no idea, but you do have this bright energy all around you. It follows you everywhere like an aura. It touches you and everything you do. It’s like sunshine.” And that’s quite an interesting take on his spiritual being or whatever Harry is currently looking into.

“So, I’m constantly followed around by a mysterious bright yellow glow that I can’t see,” Louis grins. “Sounds a bit creepy.”

“Trust me, it’s not. It’s beautiful.” That’s one Louis’ never heard. He used to people complimenting his eyes or his smile. Occasionally even his bum, but never his aura. “People feel warm just being near you,” Harry tells him. “I know I sure do.” Suddenly, Louis feels warm too. Like the invisible sunshine surrounding him is centered right where Harry is still holding onto his hand.

The sensation lingers long after Harry lets go, making him wonder if there’s a light that follows Harry around too. Louis doesn’t doubt it.

“So?” Harry smiles as he steps back. “How’d I do?”

“Eh,” he shrugs. “You’re no Dumbledore, but I can’t lie and say I’m not at least a little bit impressed.”

That’s hard to admit, but also true. All this time he has believed Harry to be a cute, delusional fraud, however it’s getting a lot harder to view him that way after that. He’s still ridiculously cute of course, and Louis still has his doubts about this whole magical abilities thing, but something about him makes Louis want to believe. And also, consume truckloads of decadent pastries for as long as Harry is willing to bake them.

*

Back at work a week later, Louis is three hours into day two of interviewing all the available chefs in the land and realizing he’s quickly running out of options. He’s been through two who studied in Paris, one who studied in Italy, and another who studied somewhere Louis has never heard of and never wants to again after his sample dish left him feeling more queasy than sated. He’s about to give up with his grand opening only a few weeks away. At this point, Louis fears he may end up cooking the food himself until someone answers his prayers and heaven smiles down on him in form of a brilliant man called Chef Payne.

He’s much younger than all the other chefs and hasn’t studied anywhere but right here which makes him skeptical at first, but what he lacks in years and experience he makes up for with innovation and the daring to try new things in the kitchen. His sample dish of honey glazed foie gras tart with made-from-scratch carbonara is a brave combination, but also the single best thing Louis has tried today. He’s so taken with Chef Liam Payne’s food that Louis doesn’t even bother with the whole formality of making him wait to find out if he got the job. Louis offers it to him right there on the spot.

“Thank you so, so much for this opportunity, Mr. Tomlinson,” he beams, shaking Louis’ hand so hard he’s jostled off balance. His enthusiasm is refreshing and also endearing. Kind of like a puppy being given the chance to play outside for the first time rather than being cooped up indoors. “And you’re sure you don’t want to taste any of the desserts I brought with me?”

“Nope, I’m sure they’re amazing just like everything else. And I told you, you’re doing me the favor here Chef Payne. I’m extremely lucky to have you here.”

“Okay. Well, if you’re sure. And call me Liam, please.”

“Only if you call me Louis,” he smiles back.

On his way home, Louis decides to stop and treat himself for a job well done by heading straight for Spellbound as is now customary after a long day. Or any occasion really. His waist line will certainly pay for all the indulgences he’s been allowing himself, but when something tastes as good as Harry’s baking, it’s hard to care.

The warm scent of sugar and spices welcomes him into the shop the moment he walks inside, and that’s before he catches sight of Harry’s bright smile behind the display.

“Lou,” Harry greets him brightly. “You’re early tonight.”

“That’s because I had a great day at the restaurant. Finally found a chef,” Louis answers heading straight for the beautiful tower of cupcakes proudly displayed on the left side of the case.

“Congrats! I knew you would. I had a _feeling_ everything would work out,” he jokes. “And how are you?”

“Fucking starving.” He’s pretty sure Harry doesn’t need his gift to hear his stomach rumbling right now.

“What else is new?” Harry laughs, walking over to witness Louis practically drool trying to decide which one he wants to eat first. “Might I suggest the key lime/coconut this evening? Maybe the chocolate ganache or red velvet cheesecake?”

When Louis blinks up it’s to a deep pair of dimples and a pair of fond green eyes that seem to smile just watching him.

“And how am I supposed to make up my mind with you staring me down like a hawk? You’re pressuring me,” he jokes, feeling the butterflies he has come to associate with Harry flutter around in his stomach. “These all look incredible, but I actually think I’m more in the mood for something fruity. Something strawberry flavored perhaps?” he asks hopefully.

Harry stares at the shape of his mouth the whole time he speaks, biting down on a not-so-innocent grin once they lock eyes again.

“Then wait right here, because I have the perfect thing,” Harry boasts. He leaves for a moment to go to the kitchen, returning a minute later with a plate full of chocolate covered strawberries fresh from the fridge. “Made these just this morning,” he says, removing the plastic wrap covering them so Louis can see and smell how amazing they are.   

“W-Wow. They do look quite delicious,” Louis breathes just as Harry picks one up with a devilish grin, slowly raising it up to Louis’ mouth for a taste.

“Ever notice how there are so many words for delicious?” Harry asks in his slow drawl, watching Louis lean forward to take a bite of pure ecstasy. “I mean there’s yummy, tasty, savory…”

“ _Delectable_ ,” Louis adds, feeling the very embodiment of the word as he gladly swallows it all down. He licks over his lips afterwards to enjoy the hint of hazelnut Harry must’ve added to the chocolate, unintentionally drawing Harry’s attention right to them.

“Luscious, scrumptious, succulent…” Harry continues with bated breath as he leans in closer, no longer even bothering to hold up the other half of the strawberry for Louis to eat from his hand.

He seems to run out of synonyms, his gaze fixed on the pink fruit-stained lips before him.

“ _Mouthwatering_ ,” Louis finishes just as their mouths touch, and suddenly, it’s like he’s freefalling.

Every slide of their tongues is more tantalizing than anything Louis has ever tasted in this shop. The mixture of strawberry and chocolate is still heavy on his breath, but it’s the natural sweetness of Harry’s that has him ready to crawl over the display case separating them. He has half a mind to do just that when he nips at the plump bottom lip brushing against his and Harry gasps aloud from the sting of it. The only thing that keeps Louis from hopping over the glass is the faint sound of a bell dinging somewhere behind him and the old woman who clears her throat several times to make her presence known.

He and Harry quickly break apart, unable to stop grinning at one another for being caught making out over a platter of chocolatey fruit that is most definitely no longer fit for sale.

“Uh, I’ll be right with you, Mrs. Taylor,” Harry promises the old woman. “I’m just going to bag these strawberries up for my friend here.”

She raises a brow at them, but doesn’t seem at all offended. “We should all have a friend like that,” she smirks before moving to scope out the cakes lining the middle right shelf.

*

“Are you even listening to me?” Erin throws an annoyed look over at Louis stretched back in his chair with his feet propped up on his desk.

“What’d you say?” Louis asks, not sure if he heard any of that over the recurring memory of Harry wrapped up in nothing but Louis’ sheets this morning and every other morning since they kissed.

“I _said_ your two-week lease is up and your real flat is ready.”

“Oh. Right.” Louis nods in acknowledgment. “Get rid of it.”

“Get rid of it?!” Erin exclaims. “The luxury flat you whined and complained about not getting to live in and now suddenly you _don’t_ want to live in it?”

Louis runs his assistant’s question back through his brain making sure she got it all correct. “Yep, that’s right. Don’t need it anymore,” he says, letting his mind wander once again as he digs into the box of mini French silk pies he got off of Harry this morning right after getting _him_ off in his shop’s office. “I think I’m in love, Erin.”

“That’s not love. That’s called a good sugar high and lust,” she deadpans, rolling her eyes when Louis sighs around the mouthful of dessert in his mouth. “Eating isn’t supposed to be sexual, you know?”

It is when it tastes as orgasmic as this pie.

“Come on, E. Just try _one_ ,” Louis begs.

“Ew, no,” she declines yet again with a displeased expression. “You know I don’t even like French pie.”

“I know, but I promise you’ll like this. Please, Erin? For me?”

His assistant doesn’t seem very moved by his plea but she grabs a mini pie to appease him anyway.

“Holy shit,” she says after popping it into her mouth and the smooth texture of it caresses her tongue.

“See! That’s what I said!” Louis shouts, eating another just to experience that magnificence all over again.

For someone who supposedly doesn’t even like French pie, Erin sure is eating a lot of it, reaching into the box of twelve to grab two at once. “Oh my God,” she moans. “Where did these even come from? Lou, these are- I mean, the _flavors_ of this are just so- so-”

“Spellbinding?” Louis offers knowingly, slapping her hand away when she greedily reaches for another. His assistant looks like she could cry. “If you want more, I’d be happy to give you the address. The shop is beautiful, the desserts are divine, and the amazing baker responsible for it all is really, really cute, _but_ you can’t have him," Louis warns with a grin. "He’s mine.”

*

Louis didn’t mean to start a revolution by telling Erin about Harry’s shop, but that’s exactly what happens. She went once, loved everything she tried, told everyone at work about it, who in turn told everyone they know, and now Spellbound receives more customers than can fit inside the small shop at one time. It’s the most popular bakery in downtown as it should be, and that’s with the twenty-seven blocks it takes most people to get there.

A week later, an alarm blares at seven a.m., making Louis and Harry both squint at the morning sunshine flooding Harry’s bedroom the way it never does across the corridor at Louis’. Not that they sleep at Louis’ very often. There is hardly anything over there besides his laptop and clothes, and food shopping is just simply something Louis doesn’t do. Besides that, there’s Salem to think about and feed, and also Harry’s place just feels better to laze around in. Homier, Louis guesses. And then there’s also the fact that he keeps a jar full of freshly-baked cookies on the kitchen counter for him at all times. Nothing spells home better than that.

“Louis? Babe, it’s time to get up. I’ve got to get down to the shop and you’ve got to go to the restaurant,” Harry says, making Louis groan up at the ceiling. Who the hell invented waking up to go to work anyway? Nobody sane, that’s for sure.

“Don’t want to. You can’t make me,” he insists. “And plus, you’re not there,” he complains, making Harry breathe a laugh against the shell of his ear.

“Well someone has to get up make all those treats you and all your team love so much.”

Someone does have to make them all. And lucky for Louis, it’s the same someone now peppering kisses along his neck and reaching down beneath the sheets to wake him up properly.

“Oh, that’s good,” Louis sighs as Harry takes his semi into his large hand, grinning when Harry starts to slowly jerk him off. “Really, _really_ good,” he amends, turning his head to receive the breathy kiss Harry pulls him into.

Louis is left wanting more when Harry pulls back to kiss at his neck again but almost like he can sense his longing, he switches up the game, moving lower, throwing the covers back, and shifting until he’s able to take Louis all the way into his mouth.

The quick transition from his hand has Louis moaning beside himself much like Harry was last night when he crawled into bed exhausted. After such a long day at work baking for half the city vying for his pastries and then giving readings well into the night, Louis considered it his civic duty to take care of him and make Harry come down his throat at least twice.

He guesses this is just an enthusiastic thank you. Either that, or a very aggressive form of payback.

“I-I’m close,” he warns almost too late as Harry doubles his efforts. The suction around him is perfect and his stomach hasn’t stopped quivering since Harry’s nose accidentally brushed over it from taking him down so deep. And although Harry claims he can’t read minds, Louis begs to fucking differ because every move Harry makes while sucking him off is just what he needs.

Louis comes so hard he sees stars dancing around the crown of Harry’s head and then his cherry-red mouth, watching him lick over it with a satisfied smirk. Louis would tell him how sinful it looks if he were still able to speak.

“Time for work. Up you get,” Harry smirks after pressing a kiss to the little tummy Louis has acquired since meeting him and another kiss to Louis’ slack lips before heading for the shower.

He’s supposed to go out and function in actual society after _that_? All Harry did was make him never want to fucking leave.

As much as it pained him to do so, Louis did eventually make it to the restaurant for work and Harry to Spellbound. Which is a very good thing considering today is their full menu tasting before opening night now just a couple of days away.

Chef Payne and his kitchen staff pull out all the stops for Louis and the rest of his team, presenting them with the full-course menu they designed complete with lobster ravioli, herb-roasted lamb, the delicious foie gras and carbonara combination that got Chef Payne the job in the first place, along with various soufflés, scallops, purees, and soups. Each of them tastier and more exquisite than the dish that came before.

Dessert comes last and after a whole afternoon of full-course eating, everyone is more than ready to sample some sweets. There’s chocolate meringue, a bright lemon custard that looks interesting, apple tarte tatin, strawberry macarons, and a generous slice of marble cheesecake Louis can’t wait to sink his fork into.

“This looks spectacular,” Louis smiles before immediately reaching for one of the macarons…and then slowly putting it right back down on the plate after taking a bite and realizing it wasn’t quite what he was expecting. Perhaps he was expecting too much?

“Louis? Is something wrong?” Chef Payne asks when he notices Louis not eating with the same enthusiasm as he did while working his way through all the main dishes.

“Uh- No, no,” he grins. “Of course not. Just getting a little full I guess.” It’s not that the macarons aren’t good, because they are. And Louis can tell that Chef Payne and his staff put a lot of effort into them, but still. They leave something to be desired.

Pretty much everything in front of Louis gets the same mental review. Okay. Acceptable. Good, but somehow not quite good enough. And what’s most peculiar is Louis isn’t the only tough critic sitting at the table because the entire team seems to be staring down at the half-eaten sweets with similar looks of anticlimactic disappointment.

“You hate my desserts, don’t you?” Liam says, looking between Louis and everyone else who isn’t wearing a big satisfied smile like before.

“Er- Well, Li, _hate_ is a very strong word,” Louis winces, unsure of how else to phrase it so it sounds less harsh. The actual critics who show up on Friday certainly won’t hold back.

“Oh my God. This is a nightmare. All we’ve been doing all week is practicing making these,” Liam panics, his forehead all scrunched up with worry lines.

“Well, maybe we can make a few small changes?” Erin kindly suggests before she’s wincing too. “Or we could just start over. Try something else entirely.”

They’re decent ideas. Each one makes Chef Payne look like he’s about to hyperventilate of course, but in truth, Louis’ not sure small changes and trying other things is going to work here when they already have five different things that didn’t. Dessert should always be a revelation. It’s the last thing his guests will experience when they come here and it should leave them sated and wanting more. Unfortunately, the only person Louis knows whose desserts do that for him time and time again is Harry.

It’s later that evening when Harry is just finishing closing up his shop that Louis sees him bite down on a grin noticing him outside. Harry comes to unlock the door for him, looking a bit tired but no less happy to see Louis there.

“Hey, you.”

Louis can’t help but sigh into the kiss he’s greeted with, so lost in the taste of Harry’s mouth that he’s still reeling from it even after they stop.

“Hey,” he grins back feeling like he just did one spin too many around a merry-go-round. “How are you? How was your day?”

“Busy. Great,” Harry beams as he invites Louis further into the shop. “Even better now that you’re here to help me clean.” He wiggles his eyebrows at him, making it very difficult to catch the spray bottle and towel he gets tossed to finish wiping down the front of the display case.

“So, how was work for _you_?” Harry asks as he gets to work sweeping. “How’d the big menu tasting go?”

Calling it a train wreck would be overly dramatic, but really that’s all he has to equate it to. And there’s no way he can allow it take place again on Friday night, so here goes nothing.  

“Uh- You know, it’s so funny you should mention that.”

Harry’s brow furrows comically at his playful tone. “Is it?”

“Mhmm,” Louis grins, abandoning his cleaning supplies to come snake his arms around Harry’s waist. “All the dishes from the dinner menu were excellent which is perfect because as you know, the heart and soul of any good restaurant is always the food.”

“So you’ve told me a few million times,” Harry chuckles.

“And since the food is the heart and soul,” Louis continues, “Dessert is kind of like the pretty, sweet-tasting ribbon to tie it all together. And since it turns out that Chef Payne’s dessert is kind of like the old, crinkled, lopsided bow you find at the bottom of the bag, I was hoping that maybe _you_ could take the job instead!” Louis says with his biggest and brightest smile in place. “Please. I’m not above begging,” he tacks on just in case good manners help in this situation.

He’s not sure they do from the way Harry’s eyebrows are still scrunched together.

“So... you want to fire Chef Payne?” he frowns. “I thought you liked him, Lou?”

“No, no, you’ve got it all wrong. I don’t want to fire him.” Louis winces realizing that’s not entirely true. “Okay, I do want to fire him, but only a little. The bottom line is, Liam really is an outstanding chef. I have complete confidence in him, it’s just his desserts that maybe _aren’t_ so great. Not like yours, Haz.”

Louis wants his restaurant to have the best of the best which includes Liam, but that means it has to include Harry too.

“Lou,” Harry begins looking immensely flattered by his offer, but also incredibly doubtful. “You know I would help you if I could. But you’re opening a _five-star_ restaurant, babe. And I’m so glad to know you believe in me that much, but I’m no pastry chef. I haven’t studied with famous cooks in a bunch of foreign countries or really even gone to culinary school. I’m just a baker.”

“And that’s what makes you the best there is,” Louis assures him. “And also the envy of every culinary chef out there because no one had to show you how to be amazing. That’s called natural talent and it’s not something that can be taught.”

His praise seems to sink in the longer Louis grins up at him. “You think I’m talented?”

“Oh, I know you are,” Louis says with a quick pat to his stomach that makes them both snort a laugh.

“Thank you, Louis. That means a lot to me, but I still don’t quite understand. You want me come work for you, but what about my shop? You want me to just give it up?”

“No, Haz. Absolutely not. I love your shop and want you to keep it. I just could really use your help. Even if it’s just for opening night.” He can feel Harry’s resolve crumbling the longer he thinks about it, biting down on a grin as Louis continues trying to butter him up. “Oh, come on, love. It’s just one night cooking for the city’s elite in a state-of-the-art kitchen with all the tools and gadgets and giant mixers a baker could ever need right at your fingertips.”

Harry pretends to mull it over before leaning down to connect their lips.

“Sold.”

*

“I didn’t realize it was bring your boyfriend to work day.”

“That’s because it’s bring in the man who is going to save all our asses day,” Louis quips back. “…Who also just happens to be my boyfriend, so I guess technically it kind of is bring your boyfriend to-” A shit-eating smirk stretches across Erin’s face at him making her point for her. It quickly disappears when Liam walks into the office as requested and Louis ‘accidently’ hip checks her out of the way.

“Liam! It’s so good of you to come,” Louis smiles. “There’s someone very special I’d like you to meet. This is Harry. Harry, this is Liam.”

Louis watches with bated breath as his head chef meets his head pastry chef for the first time. They each seem a bit nervous; Harry more so since this is his first day here in general, but Liam puts him at ease by ignoring Harry’s outstretched hand for a warm hug instead.

“Welcome to the team, Harry. I can’t wait to work with you. Everyone says you’re incredible.”

It’s obvious that Harry already likes him, grinning knowingly as if he can feel the kind, bright energy that Liam brings with him everywhere. It only occurs to Louis a few moments later that he probably can.

“Thank you, but I’ve heard it’s _you_ who’s the genius. Louis says your foie gras is life-changing.”

“Really?” Liam grins proudly. “Well, he’s said the same thing about your macarons.”

Watching them flirt through culinary compliments has to be the cutest thing Louis’ ever witnessed. It’s like watching two puppies become best friends, and he’d let it continue if they had the time for it.

“Well, I only said those things because they’re completely true. The both of you truly are amazing.” Harry and Liam each blush a bit at the compliment. “And you two are also the reason why tonight’s opening is going to be a hit. It’s going to be great.”

“He’s right and we’ve got a lot of work to do before the doors open,” Liam says with a clap to Harry’s shoulder. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to the staff give you a tour around the kitchen. All the appliances here are to die for. There’s even a Doyon mixer!”

Louis watches fondly as Harry excitedly follows Liam out of the office, his heart thudding in his chest when Harry says he forgot something and doubles back to kiss him instead.

“See you,” he grins before hurrying out the door again leaving Louis’ lips tingling and he grins like an idiot about it. He only realizes he’s staring after him at an empty doorway when he catches sight of the person _he_ forgot about silently laughing in his peripheral.

“Shut up, Erin.”

*

Louis tugs at his suit jacket, frowning a bit at the fit of it which is much tighter than it was a few months ago at his last restaurant opening, though he can’t say he really minds _how_ it got that way. He simply undoes the middle button so that his blue shirt underneath is more visible, the butterflies in his stomach awakening when the person responsible for his rapid and inevitable weight gain embraces him from behind.

“Someone looks amazing all dressed up,” somebody hums.

Louis turns around in Harry’s hold and realizes he’s not the only one who cleans up nicely.

“I’ve never seen a double-breasted white jacket look better.”

“I know. I look like a proper chef,” Harry teases.

“That’s because you are one.” Harry doesn’t disagree when Louis connects their lips, but he does frown a bit when Louis pulls away and lets out a long sigh.

“Nervous?”

He always is on opening night. Usually, he can’t even sleep the night before but having Harry lying next to him put his mind at ease. Much like having him here right now when he brushes a kiss against Louis’ temple.

“You’ve got absolutely nothing to worry about. Tonight’s going to be perfect,” Harry smirks. “I guess you can say I can _feel_ it in the air.”

Louis rolls his eyes at his joke, not quite sure what makes him say what comes out his mouth next when he means to call him an idiot. “I love you.”

He hadn’t exactly planned to tell him that so impulsively, but he doesn’t regret it for a second. Not when it’s the truth.

“I know,” Harry whispers. “I feel that too.”

\---------------

The restaurant is a madhouse the moment the doors open and all the night’s reservations start pouring in. Every guests’ experience here is just as important as the last. Good promotion of the restaurant is what got them a full house tonight, but their impression of the atmosphere and the food is what will bring them back a second, third, and fourth time, and hopefully with friends. The only people Louis spends more time charming and smiling at so brightly that his cheeks hurt are the other key pieces of the successful opening night puzzle; the hard-to-please critics who draw lines in the sand by telling everyone in the city which restaurants they should go to for a great night of fine dining, and also, where they shouldn’t.

With all the work Louis and his team put into taking a bunch of floor plans and bringing this place to life and with both Liam and Harry in the kitchen, there’s no way this night can end in anything but rave reviews. There’s also the fact that Louis’ non-psychic, non-wizard, yet surprisingly intuitive boyfriend pretty much guaranteed that it would. Louis just hopes he’s right.

Louis stops near the entrance to thank the kind couple who is leaving and promising they’ll soon be back. It’s the same thing most of tonight’s guests have said so that’s encouraging, however, it’s the group of people at the table Louis has been hovering around for the past forty minutes whose opinion he’s most interested to know.

“Hello there, again,” he smiles at the table of critics. How are you all enjoying your evening?” It’s going very well if the rapidly dwindling bottle of wine and their empty dinner plates are anything to go by.

“Excuse me, Mr. Tomlinson,” one of them asks. The woman whose stony expression hasn’t wavered once since she got here. “Who prepared the foie gras?”

Louis had a feeling that would be a hit.

“Uh, that would be our head chef, Liam Payne.”

The woman gives a quick nod that Louis can’t really distinguish from all her other ambiguous expressions, but just as she dips her head Louis swears he sees the tiniest flicker of a grin.

“Is there anything I can get for you all? More wine, perhaps?”

“Yes, please,” another of their group answers in his gruff voice. “And when will the dessert be coming out?”

“Dessert is being prepared right now by our other head chef, Harry Styles. It’ll be right out to you all. I’ll see to it myself,” Louis promises.

Louis forces himself to be an adult and walk as he hurries out of the main dining room towards the kitchen. It’s chaos as soon as he pushes through the double doors and sees all the kitchen staff bustling around to fill orders.

“Louis, is something wrong?” Liam calls from where he’s working hard garnishing another row of plates ready to go out.

“Everything’s great! They loved the foie gras!”

“They did? Seriously?!”

“Seriously!” Louis laughs as he turns the corner to find the person he needs right now already waiting for him with three perfectly arranged dessert plates ready to go out.

“Are these the ones?” Louis checks.

Every dessert that has left this kitchen tonight has looked like something from a dream, but there’s a certain flawlessness about these particular ones that says Harry took extra time to prepare them.

“These are the ones,” Harry nods, looking over the plates like a nervous parent. The things he has attempted for tonight are different from anything Louis’ ever seen him make. There’s a beautiful four-layer mocha cake with chocolate shavings sprinkled on top along with a rich, homemade fudge ice cream with a mint sauce garnish that’s so impressive Louis grins each time he sees it. “What do you think? They-They look okay, right?”

Louis leans up to kiss his doubt away, smiling at the sigh of relief he hears straight afterwards.

“They look incredible, Haz. I’m so proud of you.” He wishes he could stay here and explain just how proud, but there’s a table full of hungry critics out there who need their lives changed by a boatload of sugar and chocolate. “You’re doing amazing. I’ll see you in a bit,” he promises, gesturing for two members of Harry’s staff to help carry the plates.

“Okay. Hurry back,” Harry smiles.

Back out in the main room, Louis bides his time until each critic has a chance to properly taste Harry’s creations before sidling back over, however he doesn’t even have to ask if they’re enjoying them. The looks on their faces as they race to finish their final course says it all.

“Er- Hello again. I trust everything here is-”

“ _Euphoric_ ,” the stoic woman sighs as she eats the last bite of cake from her fork. “This is exquisite. Simply irresistible.”

“Yes, it is, and I daresay the texture of this ice cream is the finest I’ve ever had,” one of the men claims, making the other nod furiously in agreement. “Young man, who did you say prepared this again?”

“Uh, his name is Harry Styles. _Chef_ Harry Styles, actually. He’s amazing. He also owns a bakery called Spellbound over on Cedar Street.” All three critics exchange highly interested glances at that. “It’s a bit out of the way but trust me-”

“Well if it’s anything like what we’ve tried here I should think the walk would be well worth it,” the first man says.

“I’ll be sure to let him know you liked dessert tonight. And that he may receive some new customers,” Louis says with as much composure as physically possible. He could jump up and down he’s so excited.

“I will be there for sure,” the woman grins. “And please do pass on our compliments.”

Louis bursts into the kitchen again just as soon as he’s free from guests pulling him aside to tell him how great everything is. He bypasses everyone there until he finds Harry near the back preparing yet another row of dessert plates to go out. He looks up when he feels Louis watching him, his brows anxiously knitted together when he straightens himself up.

“Well?” he bites at his lip. “What’d they think?”

All Louis can do is smile.

*

Three critics sat down that night to eat at what promised to be the newest and most amazing restaurant in town. In their reviews of said restaurant which were released two days later in Sunday’s paper, they all firmly disagreed, each of them assuring the public that the food was not only amazing, but the best fine dining they had experienced in years. And, that the expertise and passion of the restaurant’s two head chefs were almost fully responsible for giving them such an unforgettable night.

Louis still has that newspaper page stuck to the fridge with the great Chef Harry Styles’s name underlined, highlighted, and circled twice because that’s just the kind of overly proud, borderline-obsessive boyfriend he is. He also has the page that was published six months later when Spellbound was nominated for the Best Bakery of the Year award and fucking won.

It’s later than usual when Louis wakes up to the sunshine pouring in through their window the way it never did across the corridor at Louis’. Or rather, at Emma and Nathan’s he guesses since the flat now belongs to them and their pet cats Felix and Milo. Their cat, Louis and Harry’s that is, is currently lying across their feet as per usual. And Louis’ boyfriend who also has a complete disregard for personal space, is currently draped over his chest, physically boiling him from the outside in. Not that Louis actually minds being cuddled so hard.

“Babe?” Louis whispers, nosing at Harry’s sleep-mussed hair until he groans from being awake. “It’s time to get up!” he says much brighter. “Time to go to work and fatten up the city!”

“Too tired. Don’t wanna,” he mumbles, grinning a moment later when Louis begins kissing him into a better Monday mood until he caves. “Alright, alright. I’m up,” he concedes. “You win.”

He’s not sure how Harry hasn’t realized after all this time that he always wins, but Louis accepts his congratulatory kiss with pleasure, accidentally dislodging Salem from their feet when they flip their positions. Harry’s hands travel up the backs of his thighs and settle around his bum in the same way that ended up keeping them awake half the night. Thinking back on it, Louis wouldn’t necessarily mind a morning time encore.

“We’ll both be late if you start that up,” Louis warns.

“Not true,” Harry smirks. “Shop’s already about to open thanks to my lovely staff and Erin should be arriving at your office any minute now to get things started, _manager_.”

He does have a point. For every other restaurant he’s opened, Louis has left just a couple of weeks afterwards, leaving a very capable and experienced manager in his place to keep everything going while he moves onto his next business venture. It was kind of hard to do that this time around. Even harder to imagine leaving all this behind to start over somewhere else.

Louis isn’t the only one adjusting to new things though. Harry’s life has changed just as much as his now that Spellbound is doing so well. His staff makes it possible for him to be present at his shop during the day as just Harry as well as freeing him up in the evening just in time for him to become Chef Styles at the restaurant. Harry still gets to do readings sometimes and help people. His bakery which was once struggling just to make rent now rakes in more customers than any other bakery in town. The restaurant is doing even better than Louis or anyone else could’ve hoped, and the best part of it all is he and Harry get to work together and come home together every day. Life honestly couldn’t get any better.

“How much time do we have before we need to get ready?” Louis asks, his skin already flushed and humming at the prospect of sex before work. Like he said before. It can’t get any better.

“Oh, around thirty… maybe even _forty_ minutes,” Harry estimates. “But, we should probably hurry. I was thinking of baking some more of those banana-nut muffins you love so much for breakfast afterwards. Or, we could simply _multi-task_ ,” he says with a devilish smirk making the pit of Louis’ stomach rumble and warm over all at once.

“Um, kill two birds with one stone. _Definitely_ ,” he decides for them, already hopping up to race him there.

So, maybe life _can_ get better after all. Much, much better.


End file.
